
Class _ 
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RICHARD GRIFFIN 



A Tale of Fraunces' Tavern 

A.D. 1765 
AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



PUBLISHED BY 

THE AUTHOR 






Copyright, 1914 

BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



Copyright, 1915 

BY 

RICHARD GRIFFIN 



MAY 13 1915 

©C[,A898926 



A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN. A.D. 1765 

Prologue 

The year, one thousand, seven, sixty-five. 
The period when France and England strive 
To thrust each other from the western shore, 
The Ecclefechan strips for iron war. 

The Lob Scouse Boy stood on the after poop 
With fingers deeply in a bowl of soup. 
The Captain called him but he would not go 
Because he did enjoy the lob scouse so. 

The contents of the bowl was very nice 
And so he Hcked his fingers over twice. 
The Captain called again " ahoy, ahoy, 
Bring me my soup, where is that Lob Scouse Boy." 

The boy now brings the bowl of boiling broth, 
The wandering Demons leap about the froth. 
Black Witch craft skips upon the fins of night. 
The Captain groans beneath a dreadful blight. 

A sulphurous sickly odor struck the air. 
The crew, all wondered how it came, oh where! 
A spell of sadness filled the Captain's soul. 
The wandering Demons danced a farandole. 

Canto I 

The good ship " Ecclefechan " gave a creak, 
The death watch in the bulkhead squeaked a squeak. 
The Surgeon shook his head and heaved a sigh 
Observing that the sailor soon must die. 

3 



4 A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

The Powder Monkey to the Captain sped, 
Bowed low his head, then touched his cap and said: 
" I bring you news from Wagstaff's dying bed. 
He soon will join the roll call of the dead.'^ 

The Captain walked the deck with hasty stride 
Then muttered to himself, " the Surgeon Hed. 
It's all a lie, a hoax, a scurvy joke. 
The Guy will Kve, get well, he must not croak." 

That morning Johnny Wagstaff had been flogged, 
And now he lay near death, with brain half clogged. 
He moved his lips, then pointed to the clock; 
And faintly whispered, " send for Hiram Bock." 

The Captain stood beside the dying bunk. 
He held his nose as if he smelt a skunk 
And seemed to say, " Oh hit him with a brick. 
These kind of people always make me sick." 

Young Wagstaff opened both his eyes and gazed 
On Captain Hiram Bock who now amazed 
Returned the sailor's look, who smiled on him. 
Then spoke four simple words, '' please douse that glim." 

The good ship " Ecclefechan " gave a lurch 
Which quite upset the champion of the birch. 
He staggered, timbers creaked, out went the light, 
And all was grimy darkness, black as night. 

For many moments all was very still, 
Then came a voice, it gave them both a chill. ^ 
Yea — through the darkness, came a dismal voice. 
Demons of water, fire, air rejoice! 

The dying sailor spoke; " Sir Hiram Bock 
Beware, repent, don't gibe, don't sneer, don't mock. 



A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

Beware! your chain is forged, doomed, link on link. 
Beware ! you totter on an awful brink ! 

" I die, and yet we'll meet, yea, many times. 
Before it is too late, repent your crimes: 
The wandering Demons leap, heap coal on coal. 
Oh God have mercy on my erring soul." 

One gasp, one struggle, Wagstaff is no more. 
His troubles now are over, close the door. 
On such deep thoughts it is not wise to dwell. 
Oh Death: Oh Judgment, Purgatory, Hell! 

The victim of the cat o' nine tails sleeps. 
He's left his mates, his mess, he's gone for keeps. 
Up^ to the deck with careful hands they drag 
The sailor's body in a canvas bag. 

One of the crew, a pious, good old Bloke 
Began to pray, the Captain quickly spoke: 
" Cut that yarn short, you superstitious dunce 
And throw the carrion overboard at once." 

Oh Captain Hiram Bock, remorseless mocker! 
Down went the bag to Davy Jones's locker. 
Poor sailor Johnny Wagstaff's soul I ween 
Is dancing hornpipes now on Fiddlers Green. 

The Captain to the crew now made this speech : 
" If any speak of Wagstaff's death, 'tis breach 
Of disciphne. I'll have my Httle joke. 
I'll stop his grog, and send him up in smoke! " 

Next day at noon they sighted Sandy Hook. 
The Captain grit his teeth and closed his book. 
The log is finished for the voyage now. 
Black clouds are hanging on the Captain's brow. 



6 A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

The Lob Scouse Boy, poor simple cracked brained lad, 
Without sufficient wit for good or bad, 
With canine instinct chafes with bated breath 
Scenting calamity, despair and death. 

Twas in the evening of a lovely day 
They came to anchor in the lower bay. 
They squared the yards, the anchor rattled, fell, 
The officer reported, " all is well." 

The Captain jumped into his gig and roared: 
" Let every Mother's son remain on board. 
If any leave this ship ere I come back 
I'll trice him up and flog him blue and black. 

" Take well to heart my orders, worthy friends. 
For if you don't you'll have to make amends. 
You know I mean exactly what I say." 
The Captain pUed the oars and rowed away. 

The Bosin whistled through one crooked fang: 
" By gosh, this beats the bugs, I'll leave this gang." 
The Quartermaster said, " I'm really vexed." 
The Powder Monkey picked his nose, perplexed. 

The wandering demons claw, set firm each jaw, 
Determined as the skipping battledore. 
The head fiend calls the muster, " Fill the gap! " 
Now, ready! go! Exterminate the yap! " 

We all know in the absence of the cats, 
The rats and mice hold carnival. Yes, that's 
Enacted on the " Ecclefechan's " decks 
Regardless of the danger to all necks. 

The Bosin pipes his pipe, (most welcome squeal), 
" Come take your places, boys, begin the reel." 



A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

Oh joy! Sublime? Not. Rot. Oh dreadful spree! 
The " Ecclefechan " rings with woeful glee. 

Old Chips the Carpenter begins to skip. 
The Quartermaster does the tango dip. 
The classic Turkey Trot is extra queer. 
The Powder Monkey excavates his ear. 

Entr'acte 

One member of the crew stood all alone. 
The tears were in his eyes, he gave one groan. 
Another moment — listen — hear that splash — 
The lad is in the water, makes a dash, 

Strikes boldly out, swims for the nearest shore 
With lusty strokes, full breath and well set jaw. 
His heart is firm, is true, without alloy. 
God bless his soul ! It is the Lob Scouse Boy. 

Canto II 

Crook'd Pearl Street, ever turning left and right, 

More gloomy now than ever, casts a bHght 

On man, on beast, on every Kving thing 

Chilling the Watchman's cry, '^ God save the King! " 

The lamp light in the lane is very faint. 
It shines upon a figure cloaked and quaint. 
The figure squirms and crawls along so sleek 
Just like some sKmy musk rat in a creek. 

Weird dread mysterious powers seem to bhght 
This ill conditioned wanderer of the night, 
Sir Hiram Bock. Black vengeance seems to beckon 
The evil genius of the " Ecclefechan." 



8 A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

The Captain starts, transfixed; what can it be! 
Both eyes are bulging; look! what does he see? 
He sees a Court of Justice, and a Judge. 
He tries to turn and run, he cannot budge. 

The Judge sits dignified in wig and gown: 

He looks upon the Captain with a frown. 

The Captain's eye meets his, (he chokes for breath) 

It is the sailor who was flogged to death. 

The Judge and sailor all in one combined. 
The Captain now the prisoner; confined 
Within the dock. The lowly sailor lad 
Raised from the dead confronts this cringing cad. 

" Oh man of sin. Oh Yap, Oh Captain Bock! 
You are my prisoner within the dock. 
Your sentence death, you crawling beast, you Muck! 
I'll have your life before eight bells have struck." 

Forth from the ground a penetrating stench. 
Arose, enveloping the Judge's bench, 
Mixed with a cloud of sKmy, greenish hue 
That hid the sailor from the Captain's view. 

The Captain fell upon his face abashed. 
From every side a dreadful tumult crashed. 
Plutonian cymbals struck a tardy clang. 
Sweet Madrigals of wandering Demons sang. 

When hush, the music ceased, a silence came. 
All prone the Captain lay, his massive frame 
Convulsed with apprehension, begging time, 
More time, for expiation of his crime. 

He shrieks, he howls, he feels a cold damp hand 
Upon his brow. No earthly red hot brand 



A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 9 

Could shake him now. He turns, he sees, Oh joy 
Can it be true! It is the Lob Scouse Boy! 

The Captain clasped the lad and wept aloud: 
Yes, this proud Noble, trembling, all cowed 
Begged the poor menial boy to help him now 
And save him from himself, but how ! how I 

The chimes of Trinity began to toll. 
The Lob Scouse Boy, taking the leading roll 
Conducted Captain Bock with tottering walk 
Along the narrow lanes of old New York. 

The boy looked keenly as they went their way 
For some safe place to rest until next day. 
He reads a sign board '^ Welcome Man and Beast." 
Old Fraunces' Tavern — now they'll have a feast. 

Canto III 

Old Fraunces' Tavern, famous far and near 
For good old Yorkshire pudding, ale and beer, 
Now meets the travellers' gaze, (supreme it reigns) 
Clearing the clouds that mingle through tlieir brains. 

They ring the bell, it answers soft and deep 
Rousing the faithful Porter from his sleep. 
He gets the key, he turns it in the lock. 
Opens the door and welcomes Captain Bock. 

The Porter leads them to a room in back 
Shrouded in darkness, snuffy, dismal, black. 
Lights them a candle in the candle stick. 
Bids them good night and then gets out right quick. 

The gallant Captain Bock all in a grouch 
Now laid himself to rest upon a couch, 



10 A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 

And told the boy to sleep upon the floor 

On yonder rug stretched quite across the door. 

Soon all is still, all wrapt in sleep profound, 
Black witchcraft claims its consecrated ground. 
Fantastic forms chasse from out their cavern. 
Deep silence holds its sway in Fraunces' Tavern. 

When suddenly there came a piercing shriek 
As if some fiend had thrust its red hot beak 
Straight through the heart of Captain Hiram Bock 
Who screamed and howled, transported by the shock. 

All Fraunces' Tavern now is wide awake. 
The house begins to totter and to quake. 
Sharp shrieks belch forth again, and yet again. 
The halls are crowded with excited men. 

They batter down the door with axe and sledge. 
They enter with a rush — a human wedge. 
They stopped, they gasped, amazed, too late! too late! 
God help his sinful soul. Oh dreadful fate ! 

That which you sow you certainly will reap. 
The Captain lies all huddled in a heap. 
Beside the cot, the sailor Wagstaff stands 
Waving aloft on high two bloody hands. 

He spat upon the cold form on the bed. 
He hissed these words above the mangled dead: 
" Remember what I said, you Yap, you Muck, 
I'd have your life before eight bells had struck." 

There came a strange mysterious wind that blew 
Green smoke about, it hid the form from view. 
It awed the crowd, it kept them all at bay 
And when it cleared, the ghost had fled away. 



A TALE OF FRAUNCES' TAVERN 11 

The Lob Scouse Boy stood shouting, " Grab him, stab 

him! 
The sailor, see the sailor, nab him, jab him! " 
Above all this commotion, all these yells. 
The chimes of Trinity rang out eight bells. 

Epilogue 

Deep in the shadow of the City Hall 
Close to the sacristy of old St. Paul 
There stands an obeHsk of crisket rock 
Which lauds the memory of Hiram Bock. 

One autumn night, the watchman on his round 
Across, the churchyard stopped, there on the ground 
Behold! a human form, so still, so dank 
With dew; stretched Hfeless on a grassy bank. 

This world of sin was not for such as thee 
Poor boy! Upon his Captain's grave died he 
Just like some faithful dog that don't survive 
His master's death, 'gainst fate he could not strive. 

The moonlight shines upon a childish face. 
A smile is on that face, oh state of grace ! 
He went to meet his God. No trouble more. 
The Lob Scouse Boy has reached another shore. 



SEVENTEEN GANDERS FROM FLANDERS. 

Canto I 

' Seventeen Ganders 

Hailing from Flanders 
Are taking a voyage together. 

How the saucy brig flies 

Under Southern skies 
Enjoying most beautiful weather. 

The cage of these Ganders 

Imported from Flanders 
Is lashed to the forward deck. 

Quite close to the life boat 

That can't sink, it must float 
So handy in case of wreck. 

The Mate Jimmy Sankey 

Rheumatic and cranky 
Brought up on the bottle and rope, 

Quite spavined with hard knocks, 

Unsightly, he stops clocks, 
He walks with a droop in his slope. 

Jim don't Hke these Ganders 

Imported from Flanders, 
He thinks it Tommy rot. 

He feels that he's all right. 

Then waits for a dark night 
To carry out his plot. 

12 



SEVENTEEN GANDERS FROM FLANDERS 13 

At last all is ready. 

One shove, quick and steady, 
There, overboard, Hi ! a great lark. 

The cagefull of Ganders 

Imported from Flanders 
Goes floating away in the dark. 

Canto II 

Old Percival Twiggins 

With Spriggins and Wiggins 
Expecting his ship to sail in. 

Sits waiting and watching, 

Feels sure some one's botching 
His favorite scheme to nail tin. 

The gulf stream has gobbled 

The cage. Yes quite hobbled, 
The poor little birds badly shaken 

Repine in their frail cage 

While Twiggins the hale sage 
Has tossed up the sponge quite forsaken. 

Old Percival Twiggins 

With Spriggins and Wiggins 
Soon rides in a box on a cart. 

The loss of those Ganders 

Imported from Flanders 
Has broken the poor fellow's heart. 

Entr'acte 

On the Texas coast 

On a hickory post 
Straight as a crooked arrow. 

Like a twisted bat 

All hunched up sat 
One narrow minded sparrow. 



14 SEVENTEEN GANDERS FROM FLANDERS 

The sparrow winked 

Then cutely blinked, 
See that speck on the ocean ! 

He craned his neck. 

Now clickety Cleck! 
There comes a great commotion. 

The Penguin bright 

With head upright 
Clawed at the Petrel Blinker. 

The Dodo dropped, 

Yes down he flopped. 
The Magpie piped, " the cHnker." 

The bipeds agree 

The speck on the sea 
Is Hearing the shore. The sage 

Doctor Owl says it is. 

Don't you see it means biz. 
A regular floating cage. 

The cage takes a ride. 

The incoming tide 
Sweeps up on the rocks with a dash. 

One thump and a roar. 

One bump on the shore. 
The cage opens wide with a crash. 

No gang plank required. 

Bedraggled and tired 
The passengers land, very fine. 

The seventeen Ganders 

Imported from Flanders, 
March up on the rocks in a line. 

Plain truth is so rare 
The wise men declare, 



SEVENTEEN GANDERS FROM FLANDERS 15 

This is a recorded fact. 

The feathered bystanders 

Stood watching these Ganders, 
And now for the second act. 

Canto III 

Up high in a crack 

Of a rock murky black 
Comes music like rattling bones. 

Where Hvely and dappy, 

All peaceful and happy. 
Live seventeen Vinegerones. 

.The poor hungry Ganders 

So lately from Flanders, 
They walked with a limp and a moan. 

They pricked up their ears. 

They heard, oh poor dears, 
The squeak of the Vinegerone. 

Eager and pert, 

Ever alert 
The Ganders have groans in their quacks. 

Over the stones, 

Vinegerones 
Are taking a stroll, oh how lax! 

The Vinegerones, 

The Ganders all bones, 
Confront one another with squeaks and^quacked groans. 

The Ganders breathe deep, 

Then make a big leap 
And instantly swallow the Vinegerones. 

They swallow them whole. 
Each one a hot coal. 



16 SEVENTEEN GANDERS FROM FLANDERS 

A burning hot coal, Oh the sting! 

The bugs still alive 

In each crop, they strive 
The poisonous bugs have their fling. 

That night on the rocks 

A strange paradox, 
Oh poor little birds, such a fix. 

The seventeen Ganders 

The pride of old Flanders 
Are safe in the land of the Styx. 

Oh the drones. Oh the groans 

Of the Vinegerones. 
The stars looked down on the graves of the Ganders. 

The whiz of a bat. 

The squeal of a rat 
Is all the dirge sung o'er the birdies from Flanders. 



QUESTIONS 

" Why has Minnie lost a tooth? " 
Someone gave her mouth a blow. 
Oh how shocking ! How uncouth ! 
This is not artistic, no. 
Now when little Minnie smiles, 
Down her throat we look three miles. 

" Why is Johnny's jaw unhinged? ' 
Johnny tried to talk too much. 
' Bricks went flying, Johnny cringed, 
Someone held him in a clutch. 
Johnny spoke bad words; Oh fie! 
Johnny's jaw is now awry. 

" Why is Michael's ear lobe spHt? 
Why has Michael lost his teeth? " 
Michael got an awful hit. 
Michael staggered, fell beneath 
Dennis Dugan's fisticate. 
Michael is bilabiate. 

" Why does Alfred eat like that, 
Standing near the mantelpiece? " 
Patient, docile, gentle brat. 
Like a little golden fleece 
See him rub himself and cry. 
" Father knows the reason why." 

'' Why does little Mabel blush? " 
She is musing on the past. 
What a pretty rosy flush. 
Still she hears the trumpet blast, 
17 



18 QUESTIONS 

Still she hears the babbling brook. 
Read it in my other book. 

^' Why does Winfred hold her tongue? 
Does she really hit the pipe? 
Has she got a damaged lung? " 
She is quite a gutter snipe. 
Symptoms now no longer vague, 
Troubled with bubonic plague. 

" Why has teacher that long switch? 
(So methodical, so calm.) " 
Gentle Ruth, poor little witch 
Now holds out one soft pink palm. 
Whiz and whack — a stinging slap. 
All is over — just one rap. 

" Why does that strange man appear? 

See the forceps in his grasp 

Like some Oriental Seer. 

Hear his voice ; Oh what a rasp ! 

Shocking man. Oh frightful work! " 

Teeth from jaws he loves to jerk. 

" Why is Phoebe Snow all mud? " 
She strolled by the river edge. 
Yester eve there was a flood. 
Phoebe went too near the ledge. 
In the muddle puddle fell. 
Now alas! She looks like — ^well? 

Why oh why should such things be. 
All the people in these verses 
Joining in the Devil's spree, 
First class subjects for the hearses. 
Chew the rag, pick the bone, 
Let the Devil get his own. 



TAFFY ON A STICK 

Jack in a box 

Taps on the rocks, 
Produces the taffy and starts in to lick quick. 

Old Mother Goose 

Smiling lets loose 
Her children all daffy the day of their pic nic. 

Little Red Riding Hood fell in the gutter. 
Grandmother picked her out thumping her. 
Little Red Riding Hood made a great splutter, 
Grandmother kept right on bumping her. 

The man in the moon felt sad at this 
To see all these things go mad amiss. 
He hit the old lady with one of his beams 
That sent her a scooting a Bun Land of dreams. 

The wolf sat yawning near the gate. 
He procked up his ears, winking sniffy. 
He bristled at Grandma, snarled with hate 
Then gobbled her up in a jiffy. 

Old King Cole 

Merry old soul, 

The monarch of Bun Land, 

Promoter of Fun Land, 

Is taking a nap 

And don't give a rap. 

The Fiddlers three 
Were out on a spree 

19 



20 TAFFY ON A STICK 

And never came home till late, 

And when they did come, 

All three on the bum, 
Were in a very bad state. 

Fiddler number one disheveled. 
Fiddler number two bedeviled. 
Fiddler number three, Oh woe ! 
Lost his fiddle, smashed his bow. 

Barbara Smith, 
Scratched herself with 
The broken bow. 
The Fiddlers three 
Yelled out, '' Oh gee 
Go slow, go slow." 

Little Maude's spider 
Not now beside her 
On mischief bent, 
Entered the tent. 

Oh ho! 

Woe woe! 
The Queen of hearts is stung. 
When presto; bing, bang, bung! 

The Queen began to howl and kick. 
The King aroused, now grabbed his stick 
And said, " You minx! you awkward cow 
Please close your face and stop that row 
Or else 111 sHt your Up, you shrew 
And sHp a collar button through. 
Then clinch it well inside and out. 
I'll teach you how to quench that shout. 

I'll box your ear 

My pretty dear." 



TAFFY ON A STICK 21 

The Queen to appease the old King 

Now tried very sweetly to sing: 

** The beggars are coming to town 

Hard pressed by the old man in brown." 
When who should arrive but the piggie from Bonner, 
Quite minus his wig and without any honor. 

The pig caught the poor ugly duckling, 
(How could he expect it would luck bring,) 
Danced her around through the hall, 
Ate her up feathers and all 

Liking it better than roast, 

Devil fermented on toast. 

Such dancing, such wriggles. 

All crazy, all giggles! 

The Fun Land 

Of Bun Land 

Is all full of wiggles ! 

When listen, hear ! 
That sound so queer! 

The Heavens flash, the thunder howls 
Just like ten thousand billion owls. 
That rumbhng is not fake. 
The tumbling rocks proclaim the quake. 

Before you could say pittie pat 

The King and Queen are both smashed flat. 

Flatter than a kite. 

Evil, fateful night. 

Pluto brought along his taper. 
That is quite the proper caper. 
Earthquakes always light up fires. 
Burning lakes engulf the liars. 



22 TAFFY ON A STICK 

It happened thus. 

Oh what a muss. 
Poor puss in boots, 
Away it scoots 
Then falls upon its back. 
And finds itself 
Poor Uttle elf 
Not far from Gill and Jack. 

The wind got sick of blowing east. 

The Salamander had a feast. 

Half starved Hyenas were a pest, 

The wind now turned and blew south west 

Which sent the smoke another way 

And quenched the flames on Hop Scotch Bay. 

The Topsy Turveys tried to mop 
The tigers on the fence. 
The taxidermist saves his shop, 
But at a great expense. 

The list of roast 

Includes almost 

The contents of the ark. 

The Uttle frog 

And Polly Wog 

Are served on hemlock bark. 

Little boy blue 

Is in a stew 

With grated mice on top. 

These dainties tough 

Are quite enough 

To make an ostrich flop. 

The earth still quakes, 
The kitten bakes. 



TAFFY ON A STICK 23 

Men are scorched like wisp. 
Oh dreadful cries, 
The red flames rise 
Roasting them to crisp. 

Baked Alaska never harms. 
It always yanks my vote. 
Muskrat liver ever charms 
The palate of a goat. 

Sometimes I think I'll change my trade 

And deal in flounders' fins, 

Or hunt throughout some everglade 

For Tabby pole cat skins. 

Or else perhaps I'll change my mug 

And serve a sentence in the jug. 

Never be still, work with a will 

Chewing the rags in a paper mill. 

Excuse me for a minute and a half. 
Excuse me while I go and feed the calf. 
I've thought long on the subject Mother dear 
And have decided I feel very queer. 

Good by, 
Don't cry! 

I've said quite enough, 
Cut it out, the hot stuff. 

I might go on and demonstrate 
Forever at a fearful rate. 
And yet I won't, I'll make it short 
Just hke the day I carved my wart. 



24 TAFFY ON A STICK 

The donkey brays, 
The champagne pops. 
My will obeys, 
My quill pen drops. 

So ends my tafify, 
Don't think me daffy. 



TO A DODO 

All hail, thou mighty feathered dolt 
Weird emblem of the thunderbolt. 
Thy fame, Oh Madagascar's pride, 
Throughout the world is spreading wide. 

Poor Dodo, now in realms unknown 
Forever left thy once proud throne, 
Quite gone, a vertiable Guy fled. 
Thy very name a joke, poor bi ped. 
Thy graceful beak is seen no more. 
Thy voice no longer holds the floor. 
Thy swinging walk, engaging smile 
No longer animates thy isle. 

Quite true it is, poor bird maligned, 
That many people feel incKned 
Oh Dodo dear to use thy name 
Mixed up with expletives profane. 

The poHtician of the day, 
Just hke some wild beast turned at bay 
Who execrates, thus doth berate 
The opposition Candidate, 
You Dodo Rook, I'll fLx you yet 
You Chump, I'll get your scalp you bet. 
You Dodo Owl, I'Jl break your rungs. 
Jump down your throat, stamp on your lungs. 
In one day more, you Dodo Jack 
I'll have you flat upon your back. 
25 



26 TO A DODO 

But stop, Oh Dodo, dear, I grieve 
My heart beats fast, a great upheave 
To think that any doubtful word 
Is ever linked with such a bird. 

Good Dodo, unexcelled, now rest 
Secure, you are the very best 
Of birds, bright star, your glory fixed 
Oh purest gem, all gold unmixed. 
Now Dodo sleep, you stand immure, 
Forever great, your fame secure. 

The maelstrom may be dried up. 
The mother dog may lose her pup. 
The oatmeal cake be turned to wheat. 
The tabby cat her kittens eat. 
The beetle toot his bugle call. 
Niagara's torrent cease to fall. 
So Dodo dear have courage now 
And scratch the cobwebs from thy brow. 

Consider all the fame great bird 
Bestowed on thee, yea, every word 
Of adulation far beneath 
Thy rich desert, thy laurel wreath. 

Hold up your beak, and don't stop. Watch. 
Be sure you seek the high top notch. 
Pull down your chin, stick up your lip 
And then you'll never get the pip. 
Oh gentle Dodo, pray be calm. 
You cannot now be brought to harm. 
Thy past secure, thy future gleams 
All sunshine bright with radiant beams. 



SNOOKY BILLY 

Why is Billy all unstrung? 
See the nasty little sneak 
Standing on the ladder rung, 
PujQ&ng out his pimpled cheek. 
Pretty Emma neatly shook 
Billy. Now he's quite forsook. 

How is Billy's jugular vein? 
See the bruise upon his jaw! 
Snooky Billy has a pain, 
Got it in a corner store. 
One good punch upon his mug, 
Then he landed in the jug. 
Little wifie got him out, 
Paid the fine that set him free. 
Got a carriage for the lout. 
Brought him home in secrecy. 
Then he hit his wife a swot, 
Took a nap. Oh beastly sot. 

Billy lives upon his wife. 
Billy don't approve of work. 
Billy Uves a double Ufe. 
Billy should have been a Turk. 
Fond of mottled turtle doves. 
Capable of many loves. 
Wifie knows the Hfe he leads 
But she is a faithful spouse. 
Quite condones his evil deeds, 
Though she sees he is a louse. 
Willingly accepts the pill. 
Calling him her Snooky Bill. 
27 



28 SNOOKY BILLY 

Saintly woman, faithful wife. 
Since you first became a bride 
All your days one hopeless strife 
Trying hard his sins to hide. 
Turning from old friends well tried, 
When you took his part, you lied. 
Foolish wife, misguided, blind ! 
Have you not one single tear 
For that lost one. How unkind. 
How you wronged your brother dear. 
You have made your rocky bed. 
Sleep upon it, ram your head. 

Billy's trade is chewing rags. 
All his teeth are badly nicked. 
Sad result of many jags. 
Snooky has been lately licked. 
Something in his brain has clicked 
Like a chicken roughly picked. 

Gentle Reader, draw the latch 
Duck your head and close the hatch. 



SWEENY TOD 

The day of the execution broke, 
The sun extra brightly shone; a cloak 
Of darkness permeated all 
Within the jail, and cast a pall 
Upon the keepers, matrons, turnkeys, 
Causing a wholesale, deep gol durn wheeze. 

Oh Sweeny Tod, Oh Sweeny Tod, 
You think you are a model Cod 
Because you dine at dirty Dick's 
And give poor Sinners rickety jicks, 
Because you are the hangman high 
In great repute where e'er you ply 
You trade upon poor fallen wrecks, 
And earn your fame by breaking necks. 

All is bustle in the jail. 
Joyful rapture wags its tail. 
Expectation, all on wing 
In the prison yard, pong ping. 
Little birds their carols sing 
Dancing round a rosy ring. 

One man sang another tune. 
Tune of " sHp knot Mike Magoon." 
Hapless wretch, the poor condemned, 
Iron bars about him hemmed 
Holding him as in a vice 
'Til he paid his awful price. 
29 



30 SWEENY TOD 

Here in his cell we find him now 
With heated brain and fevered brow 
Gazing around with a ghastly stare, 
Paroxysms of rage and despair. 

All of a sudden he starts with fear. 
A heavy footstep falls on his ear. 
The jailer enters with a tray, 
The man's allowance for that day. 
Setting it down he then withdrew, 
Locked tight the door and barred it too. 

The man now left alone again. 
Tormented with the curse of Cain, 
Strides up and down his dismal cell 
Tr3dng in vain remorse to quell, 
Trjdng his guilty conscience to kill, 
Trying the thoughts on his future to still. 

At last he pauses near the tray 

Of food that had been left that day. 

He sees a long knife gleaming there. 

And overcome with deep despair 

Groans out aloud, " Hfe for a Hfe," 

Puts forth his hand, grasps firm the knife. 

Now from his presence we must turn. 
Now to the Sheriff's room adjourn. 
'Tis nearly noon, the time draws nigh 
When the poor criminal must die. 

The Sheriff, with a careless air, 
His mind serene and free from care 
Looks at his watch and then says, " well. 
It's time to move." He rings a bell. 
The turnkey smiUngly appears, 
The looked for order greets his ears. 



SWEENY TOD 31 

*' Fetch the prisoner here," the Sheriff cries. 
" Hurry up too, the time quickly flies. 
Don't poke along, you usually do, 
Bring him to me, and quickly too." 

The man hurries off the culprit to bring 
And with joy does jump, skip, whistle^and sing. 
Again the. iron door swings in. 
Oh wicked act, Oh deadly sin! 

Behold upon the cell's damp floor 
Haggard and stiff and drenched in gore 
With bleeding throat the man did lie, 
Quite rigid, cold, thus did he die. 
The bells rang out a fruitless toll. 
I fear the man has lost his soul. 
I fear the Devil comes out first. 
The blackest angel slakes his thirst. 

That night a sad faced man sat up. 
He did not taste the flowing cup. 
He'd had an unsuccessful day. 
The turkey buzzard lost its prey. 
He don't feel like a model, Cod. 
The sad faced mxan is Sweeny Tod. 

The bait is bit, the fish is hooked. 
I greatly fear your goose is cooked. 
Now let the welkin ring ! All screech : 
" Oh Sweeny Tod, you are a peach! " 

Oh Sweeny Tod, don't be a loon, 
There'll be another hanging soon. 
Begin the ditty, start your tune. 
Your song of " Slip knot Mike Magoon." 



32 SWEENY TOD 

We all will try to join you in 
The chorus, go ahead and win. 
Oh — yellow goats, Molasses! 
Oh Ephraim Manasses! 

The tea leaves circle there and here. 
I see thy future written clear. 
I see thy corner barber shop. 
I hear a dreadful hollow flop. 

I see thy victim stumble, pitch; 

Sink through the floor and reach the ditch. 

Fleet ditch. And now I plainly see, 

Suspended on a gallows tree. 

Thy form. Oh Sweeny Tod. Repent. 

Relentless fortune makes a dent. 

I see a surging multitude. 
I see thy swollen tongue protrude. 
Sweeny has munched his own sweet pill 
And cashed the last receipted bill. 



HUBBIE HAS WORK AT LAST 

Dedicated to Pavement Stone Polishers 

(Tune of Johnny Comes Marching Home) 

The bells are ringing, people shout, 

"Oh my! Oh my!" 
They arch their eyebrows, seem to doubt 

The guy, they cry. 
It's too tremendous, can't be true, 
They look at me, then turn to you. 
Where are the proofs, what is the clew. 

That hubbie has work at last. 
Send for the halo, give him his due. 

Yes, hubbie has work at last! 

Now hubbie awakes from his fit of the blues. 

The skunk! the skunk! 
He knows he can pay for that new pair of shoes. 

What punk ! what punk ! 
He now has a chance to make up his arrears 
Without any conscience, without any fears. 
He's gobbled a pa3dng position, my dears. 

Yes, Hubbie has work at last. 
He lived on his wife for at least twenty years. 

But Hubbie has work at last! 

Now Hubbie can handle his own pocket book. 

The sport! the sport! 
Make love to sweet Emma the housemaid and cook, 

And not get caught. 
33 



34 HUBBIE HAS WORK AT LAST 

He knows where to pick out a nice corner nook, 
In that gay cabaret by the side of the brook. 
Poor wifie at home, nice hubbie the crook. 

Yes, Hubbie has work at last. 
Sweet Emma calls Hubbie her own Tooky Took. 

Dear Hubbie has work at last! 

We'll never find out till the great judgment day 

Oh no! Oh no! 
Why suffering women are eager to pay 

Just so, just so ! 
Buy pants for their hubbies forever and ever 
And don't ask one question for twenty years, never, 
But patiently wait till provokingly clever 

Pet Hubbie has work at last! 
The faith and those knots nothing ever can sever; 

Dear Hubbie has work at last! 

Now Hubbie and wife are sentenced for Hfe 

ToHeU! To Hell! 
In all kinds of weathers they sizzle Uke feathers. 

They smell, they smell! 
Now Hubbie and wifie are shoveHng coal. 
In Hades they work from Equator to pole. 
They don't Hke their job, it's a Hell of a hole 
Where Hubbie has work at last! 
Each culprit a pill, they bubble and grill 

Where Hubbie has work at last! 



THE SHIP SAH^ED ON FRIDAY 

Did you see the soldiers march along — 
Did you see the banners waving, 
While the parrot sang another song 
And the barber kept on shaving. 
Did you see the tom-cat arch his back 
And hiss loudly at that guy gay 
While the rattlesnake fell in the sack, 
And the good ship sailed on Friday. 

So hop up there, and drop down here, 
Tip your elbow quick! you guy gay. 

For the mulled bock beer will be served next year. 
And the good ship sailed on Friday. 

The pumpkin pie got full of snails. 

How do you think I fixed it? 
I got a pint of rabbits' tails 

And in the dish I mixed it. 
I gave the mess to Uncle Ben, 

He is a dreadful fellow, 
He threw it at the speckled hen 

And then began to bellow. 

So hop up there and drop down here 
Tip your elbow quick! you guy gay. 

For the mulled bock beer will be served next year. 
And the good ship sailed on Friday. 

Did you know that Tommy Rot has got 

Another bright green necktie. 
Such a fine job lot, from Ike the sot, 

A veritable gay guy. 
35 



36 THE SHIP SAILED ON FRIDAY 

They hanged him up on a green pear tree 
While the mob was wildly raving. 

With a fiddle de dum and a fiddle de dee, 
And the barber kept on shaving. 

So hop up there and drop down here. 

Tip your elbow quick ! you guy gay. 
For the mulled bock beer will be served next year. 

And the good ship sailed on Friday. 



HIT THE PIPE 

A BLITHESOME neat potato bug 

Lay dying on a chip 
WMch rested on a Persian rug 

All stained with greasy kip- 
Pered herring. See the dying eyes 

Are riveted; the type 

We often see in old pig sties. 

Some man doth hit the pipe. 

Six demons in a rocky dell 

With voices clear and high 
Sing halleluia, go to Hell! 
Jerusalem, you guy! 
We'll wreathe you brow with garlands sweet 

Then grind your flesh for Devil's meat. 

The man that hits the pipe is named 

James Ebenezer Grimes. 
His character is rank, ill famed, 

He's rich with many crimes. 
He dearly loves to scratch his head. 

There's something that doth gripe 
His very soul. All hope is dead. 

Poor man ! He hits the pipe. 

Six Angels on a golden cloud 

Sing, " Nixie, Oh the muss. 
Poor foolish sinner, damned, all cowed. 

He'll never eat with us." 
The fumes of Hell are rising up. 

Salted in flame, the Devil's pup. 
37 



38 HIT THE PIPE 

Poor Grimes alas, joins the quack class 

That prowl, and howl and growl. 
Matriculated black jack ass, 

Inoculated owl; 
Dreams he's in a grove of myrtles. 

Little nits are hatching 
Cunning miniatures of turtles. 

See! he keeps on scratching. 

The Angels weep, the Devils chant. 

Triumphant howls are cast. 
The teeth are gnashed, they gurgle, pant, 

'' He's one of us at last." 
One week ago his soul was ripe 

And now he smokes the Devil's pipe. 

The dying sinner calmly rests 

Upon the Persian rugs 
Beside the dead potato pests. 

Those red and yellow bugs. 
The soul departs. Where? You know well: 

Where everything is ripe. 
Poor Grimes, now in the seventh Hell 

Forever hits the pipe. 

Old Satan hugs the pipe and bugs. 

Ten thousand stinging adders 
Assail the sinner, jam the jugs 

Chuck full of serpents' bladders. 
And plant him in the Devil's patch 

Where sinners hit the pipe and scratch. 



TO THE GUILLOTINE 

What a nifty guillotine ! 
Prefect in its many parts. 
Quite the greatest killer seen 
In this world of many arts. 
Very sharp : so slick, so keen. 
What a pretty Guillotine 1 
Labor saving; useful pet, 
Mirth provoking; yes, you bet! 

Did you ever see it slice? 
Did you ever hear it clack? 
Dulcet, beautiful, precise. 
See it pile up stack on stack 
Himian heads, so neat, so clean. 
What a fruitful Guillotine ! 
Dropping heads like falling stars 
From the bloody planet Mars. 

Gallows, chopping block and rack, 
When compared with thee, are slow. 
Thou hast such a happy knack. 
Bungle? Never ! Oh dear no ! 
Just one clip, thou gem, great Queen! 
Tittivating Guillotine ! 
Ever sliding, chipping midget, 
Fascinating, hacking fidget. 

Once they sought to banish thee. 
From the land from whence thou earnest. 
But the French are clannish. We 
All rejoice. Thou art the gamest 
39 



40 TO THE GUILLOTINE 

Sport, all brilliancy, all sheen. 
Blessings on thee. Guillotine! 
Piebald, scientific tinker. 
Cat Hke, nimble, bloody drinker. 

Useful instrument. SubHme! 
Like some rare exotic delf. 
May we never see the time 
When they place thee on the shelf. 
Thou art such a grand machine, 
Retributive Guillotine ! 
Thrusting heads with gory locks, 
Slopping, popping in the box. 

The Guillotine is up on high. 
Now glut thyself with necks galore. 
" Excelsior," thy battle cry 
Great advocate of ruddy gore. 
Thy glory be forever green, 
Ever majestic Guillotine! 

Hear it thump ! 

What a bump ! 

Hear it smash ! 

What a crash! 
The greatest seller yet. 
Oh labor saving pet ! 



LEGEND OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE 

The purple mountain rises steep. 
Black ugly cloudbursts crack and leap 
Defiant, proud, while far below 
Mysterious shades flit to and fro. 

The Gap of Dunloe turns and twists 
Obstructed by dark bluish mists. 
Even at noon day, shadows creep 
Along the black ravine, so deep. 

One cottage stands there by itself. 
Its owner lives alone for pelf. 
He is a miser, stingy, close, 
A money lender, mean, morose. 

Across that pretty grassy dell 

The cot; where Geoffrey Lynch doth dwell 

Stands weirdlike, solitary, prim 

Within a rocky chasm, grim. 

There comes a pattering of rain, 

Just as the day begins to wane. 

A light gleams through the window pane. 

The place is free from earthly stain. 

Angel of death, canst thou unroll 
The fate of Geoffrey Lynch's soul? 
Is he in bHss, or does he bake ? 
Or bubble in the fiery lake? 

41 



42 LEGEND OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE 

Oh what is taking place beyond 
The fringe that hides the cancelled bond? 
What has the process brought about? 
What is the justice meted out? 

Saint Peter stands before the portal, 
And says, " Begone, thou a.rt immortaL 
Oh poor lost soul without a crown 
Thy residence is further down." 

The flaming sword on high now flashed. 
Poor Geoffrey Lynch slunk off abashed. 
He fell through space, ten trillion miles 
And found himself between two stiles. 

Old Father Abraham stood near 
Athwart one stile, he held a spear. 
Then pointed to the other stile 
And spoke with goblinistic smile. 

" I see you wear no wedding gown; 
Thy residence is further down. 
Look! see that steep descending path, 
Please go and take thy brimstone bath." 

Geoffrey obeys, and now too late 
Stands knocking at another gate. 
It is the Devil who appears 
With fluted horns and gothic ears. 

The Devil said, " This is a treat. 
Have I the honor now to greet 
Some client fresh from cooler climes 
Encrusted well with many crimes? " 

Now the miser all elated 

Cleared his throat, and simply stated, 



LEGEND OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE 43 

" I am Geoffrey Lynch, kind Sir, 
While on earth I made some stir." 

The Devil staggered back, turned green. 
His rage was frightful to be seen. 
He snorted, foamed; his teeth he ground; 
He lashed his tail around and round. 

The Devil spake. " You putrid peach ! 
I know you now, you stingy leech ! 
You are not worthy of a cell 
In any self-respecting Hell." 

At this tirade, old Geoffrey Lynch 
Said to the Devil, " Loose the cinch, 
Where shall I go, my debt to pay, 
Porter of Limbo, tell me, pray." 

The Devil pointed up to earth, 

And said, '* Resume the same old berth. 

Thy punishment will be to haunt 

Thy former home. Begone! Avaunt! " 

Oh Geoffrey Lynch, oh man of woe! 

Not fit to live in Hell below, 

Forever and forever twist 

Thy grinding wheel, thy sulphurous grist. 

Oh Gap of Dunloe, beauteous spot. 
Blurred with one stigma, just one blot. 
The self same house where Geoffrey sold 
His own immortal soul for gold. 

Throughout the country everywhere 
The Irish peasantry declare 
The house is haunted by the sprite 
Of Geoffrey Lynch who roams at night. 



44 LEGEND OF THE GAP OF DUNLOE 

Lost soul, forever gulp thy pill; 

Though yet on earth, condemned to grill, 

Forever roast, a glowing fagot 

Oh Geoffrey Lynch, poor rotten maggot. 

Mind your business, shun the fight, 
Let the lost soul scratch and bite. 
Stand up, be steadfast, firm ; don't flinch, 
Avoid the house of Geoffrey Lynch. 



PENDENNIS McGUIRE 

Pendennis McGuire had worked hard all day, 
From morning till night had been pitching the hay. 
He felt hot and tired; he coughed and he wheezed. 
Pendennis McGuire the coffee pot seized. 

He filled up the coffee pot out at the pump 
Then sat himself down on an old oaken stimip. 
He rested the coffee pot brim full of water 
Upon a flat rock; alas, he'd not oughter. 
The coffee pot brought a fat bucket of sorrow. 
Pendennis McGuire must die ere to-morrow. 

His friend Mikey Flannigan, passing that way 
Called out, ^' Hi, Pendennis McGuire, you jay, 
Come help me along, I'm in need of a crutch; 
You see, I have taken a wee drop too much." 

Pendennis McGuire, obHgingly quick, 
Assisted his friend, the great Flannigan Mick. 
Escorted him safe to his home on the plain, 
Forgetting his own Httle nest in the lane. 

A blithe squirming centipede, smiHngly smug, 
With ears pointed forward, inscrutable bug! 
All weary with walking, with legs full of kinks 
Now closes his eyes and takes forty-two winks. 

Oh irmocent slumber, refreshing, reviving. 
So mystical, cristical, blue devil driving. 

45 



46 PENDENNIS McGUIRE 

The Grand Mucky Muck brings the High Rinky Dink! 
The centipede wakes and then calls for a drink. 

The coffee pot gleams, 'tis of double blocked tin. 
The bug scents the sparkling water within. 
He raises his head, makes a hop, in he dashes 
And up to his chin in the liquid he splashes. 

The coffee pot makes a superb swimming pool. 

Refreshing, relaxing, deHghtfully cool. 

The centipede drinks to his fill with delight 

Then crawls up the spout and declares it '' all right." 

He stretches himself almost ready to bust. 

Shuts his eyes; takes a nap; the sleep of the just. 

The clouds overhead become blacker and blacker. 
Stentorian tones ring out, " Back her quick, smack her." 
Wagon wheels grate, causing bright sparks of fire. 
Out jumps the hero; Pendennis McGuire. 

Pendennis McGuire, staggering, weary, 
Wild staring and glaring, bloodshot and bleary, 
Rum sodden, quarrelsome, ready to burst. He 
Looks for the coffee pot, desperate, thirsty. 

There on the rock gleams the coffee pot, dim. 
Flowing with water, quite up to the brim. 
Pendennis McGuire grabs quick at the handle. 
I fear he is burning both ends of his candle. 

He places the spout of the coffee pot deep 

Down his throat, takes a drink, gives a choke, then a leap. 

Oh horror of horrors, unfortunate gulp! 

His gullet is chuck full of poisonous pulp. 

Pendennis McGuire, your chance is now zero. 

The centipede gets in its work like a hero. 



PENDENNIS McGUIRE 47 

The centipede sticks in his throat, out of reach. 
It can^t be choked up; it sticks like a leech. 
Pendennis McGuire falls down in a spasm 
Then gives in his checks for eternity's chasm. 
His cat runs away; his dog has a cry, 
And this is the end of Pendennis; poor guy! 



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